


Impressions of a Knight

by NerdyGay



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Pre-Calamity Ganon, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyGay/pseuds/NerdyGay
Summary: Five impressions the Knight left on the Champions of Old, and one impression he left on an outsider.
Relationships: Daruk & Link (Legend of Zelda), Link & Mipha (Legend of Zelda), Link & Revali (Legend of Zelda), Link & Urbosa (Legend of Zelda), Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	1. Mipha

**Author's Note:**

> This fic gets better as it goes, I promise. The entire thing has been written, and the first few chapters are a bit rough while I saved the ones I actually wanted to write for later.

Zora’s Domain glistened with the reflected light from its waterfall mists. Spring rain lingered from the day before, accentuating even more of the Domain’s luminous qualities.

Despite the beauty, however, Mipha was nervous; a Hylian knight was coming as a representative of their king, and she was to stand to the left of her father and attend many of his meetings. She’d been a part of official court business before, of course, but never with outsiders. The Zora people were probably much more forgiving than Hylians who’d never met her before.

Her father towered beside her and over everyone else in the throne room. Just beyond him, her mother smiled comfortingly at her. If there was one thing Mipha didn’t inherit, it would be her mother’s steady fins, which stood in stark contrast to Mipha’s ones shaking in nervous anticipation. The other counselors seemed uptight, but not much more so than they usually were, in Mipha’s opinion.

Silence fell as one of the guards entered with several Hylians behind her. At the front, a Hylian couple proudly stood: the man had a thick beard and wore the strange, all-encompassing armor that she had only read about; the woman had long, gently curled air and wore softer fabrics that Mipha was more familiar with, similar to those of the Hylians who had previously frequented the Domain. On her leg, some smaller human in similar clothes clung to her leg. A child, perhaps?

“Your Majesty,” the guard began, drawing Mipha’s attention away from the unfamiliar Hylians, “may I present Sir Arn of Hyrule and his entourage.”

“Welcome, friends!” boomed her father’s voice. A few of the Hylians jumped; the Zora scarcely flinched. “We are honored to host a knight of such great talent in our humble Domain.”

“The honor is all ours,” the knight -- Sir Arn -- easily replied, stepping forward. He gave a deep bow, but did not kneel, just as Mipha’s father had told her to expect. “Zora’s Domain is as beautiful as we had heard, as are the Zora people themselves. Might I introduce my wife, Medilia, and our young son Link.”

Mipha felt her eyes widen as the smaller human moved away from the woman’s leg to show a very young child. Even with her education, she’d never seen a Hylian child before, and her first thought was how similar he looked to a young Zora child. His pudgy cheeks and big blue eyes looked the same as her people’s young, but his yellow hair and distinct nose pushed him into the realm of strange and unfamiliar.

“Ah, we were not expecting to accommodate children,” her father hummed, though Mipha barely processed the words. “Not that it’s any trouble of course, no need to look so worried. My daughter Mipha can look after him while we negotiate.”

Mipha nearly jumped at the sound of her name, but she managed to conceal her surprise. She nodded vigorously at the skeptical Hylians (thank the Goddess their facial expressions were so similar to the Zora’s), but did not say anything. With her enthusiasm, the knight and wife relented.

“Now, I’m not sure how old you are, young lady, but Link is only four,” Medilia kindly lectured her a few minutes later when everyone began moving towards the private conference chambers for discussion. “I’m not sure what Zora children are like, but he’s rather fragile, and is bound to get in trouble if given the opportunity.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Mipha softly affirmed, still transfixed on the oddity of the child. “Our young are much the same. And I’m 18, my lady.”

Medilia looked surprised for a moment, before recovering. “Right, the Zora age slower, that means…”

“Mipha is roughly the equivalent of a Hylian eight-year-old,” came the amused voice of the Zora queen, surprising Mipha. “I’m sure you were told that us Zora age the equivalent of one year for every five Hylian years, but it’s a little faster in our formative years.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Medilia bowed, “I appreciate the education.”

“Of course,” Mipha’s mother easily smiled, “and please do not worry about Link here. Mipha may be young, but she is excellent with children, and Zora and Hylians are not so different.”

“Wise words indeed, your Majesty,” the Hylian praised, though Mipha could practically feel some of the meaning going over her head. She pouted, annoyed at being left out, even if she wasn’t sure how.

“Alright, go play with the boy,” her mother laughed at her expression. “Don’t venture too far, you know the rules.”

Mipha smiled and nodded excitedly, grabbing Link by the hand and dragging him along. The boy had yet to say a word, but Mipha understood; she wasn’t so talkative either.

“Come on,” she said, pulling him towards the frog ponds. “We’re gonna be great friends!”

* * *

Over the next several years, Sir Arn became the main knight that King Rhoam would send to talk to her father. Link always came along. Mipha liked him well enough and would always play with him when he visited, though he never quite stood out to her. Sure, she continued to think of him after he left, but she didn’t know him well, not like she did the other children in the Domain.

However, things began to go downstream. Her mother had another child, giving Mipha a new little brother, but passing the egg had left her weak. Her father divided his time between caring for his wife and attending to his kingdom, and soon she barely saw him outside official meetings. Muzu explained that this was normal for a leader, that she should focus on her duties, but she still felt uneasy.

Then, the worst happened for her. 

Her mother, still weak from the complications with Sidon’s egg almost a year earlier, fell ill to swamp sickness. Father refused to let Mipha see her, afraid that she might get infected with disease as well. Eventually, she passed, with only a short goodbye to Mipha.

Now, at 24, Mipha had a younger brother but no mother. She adored Sidon, she really did, but the spot their mother took in her heart felt empty and cold. The feeling persisted regardless of where she was, whether she was in her lessons, with Sidon, or fulfilling her duties as the Princess of the Zora. 

Her father rarely acknowledged his grief, though Mipha knew it was there. He continued his duties with poise, and though he said nothing of that nature directly to Mipha, she could feel the pressure to do the same. 

The people, _her_ people, were grieving too, after all, and she needed to be strong. And so, she accepted her new duties with grace.

One such duty was holding court with her father. She stood on his right now. She despised this.

Standing on the raised dais, she held her head high, as she was taught to even with the world crushed upon her heart. Though she knew she looked attentive and noble, Arn’s greetings to her father washed over her without comprehension. 

Link’s presence beside his father flickered at the edge of her sight, but today her mind felt fogged, and she couldn’t draw the focus to notice him.

“...and truly, I am sorry to hear of your wife’s parting.” The Zora King’s words reached Mipha through the haze of her thoughts, if only because she dreaded the reply that she knew the Hylian would repeat.

“Thank you, your Majesty. I am sorry to hear that the queen has passed on as well. May she find peace in the arms of the Goddess.”

_Peace in the arms of the Goddess?_ Mipha thought, furious. _Not only must he deliver false sympathy, but he must involve the Goddess too? Mother should be here, in our arms, whether she is in the Goddess’ arms or not gives no comfort._

Though bitter tears threatened to spill from her eyes, she voiced none of her annoyance. She knew that her anger was irrational, that Arn did not deserve it, but her heart pounded nonetheless. Still, she had enough royal etiquette to not make a scene. And so she stayed quiet.

Finally, after what felt like hours of pleasantries, the Hylians were shown to their rooms. Mipha knew that she would normally greet Link, perhaps even play with him, but right now, all she wanted was to be alone. 

As soon as they left her sight, she fled to the Veiled Falls, ducking around the guards so they wouldn’t notice her leaving the safety of the Domain. She was 24. She could take care of herself, and no Lizalfos would dare get that close to the Domain, even with the increased attacks. She may not be the best with her spear yet, but she was good enough.

The Veiled Falls had always been her favorite spot. She could rush up the waterfall quickly now, no longer dependent on her mother to tug her along when the water became too rough. The ancient pedestal gave her a place to sit in the water when she felt tired, and the view from the top of the waterfall was one of her favorites.

Now, however, even the serenity of the falling water could not calm her temper. She dove into the water without a second thought, moving to climb the waterfall once, twice, three times. The exercise wasn’t enough though, so she grabbed her spear. Performing her drills while swimming still wasn’t tiring enough, so she began her ultimate challenge: fighting up a waterfall.

Fighting against both the current and gravity, the thrusts and sweeps of her spear felt heavier. Soon enough, her arms screamed in pain at the weight, but she continued, diving off the top only to swim back up. Her lungs joined in the fight against her, as did her legs and she pushed herself harder and harder, delighting in the blankness the pain encouraged. 

Mipha kept fighting as the sun fell lower and lower on the horizon, until she felt like she could barely move. After another climb up the falls, she saw a glimpse of blond hair. She scowled, but pushed herself onto the platform, glaring at the boy interrupting her.

“What do you want?” she demanded. Link watched her with wide eyes full of concern. “Sorry I couldn’t stay with you today, but I had training.”

A lie on both fronts: she wasn’t sorry, and she gave herself that training.

He continued to stare at her -- to _judge_ her -- silent. She had never minded his quiet before, maybe even enjoyed it, but now it weighed heavily on her. 

“I don’t want to talk right now,” she insisted, turning away from him as she stood. “You should go back--”

Suddenly, her legs gave out. She had strained them too much, and now, not realizing how tired she was, she was going to fall off the edge of the cliff. In water that shallow and that far down, her Zora physiology wouldn’t help her when she landed incorrectly.

_I’ll never see Sidon grow up,_ was her last thought as her body fell over the edge.

Then, a hand grabbed her short cloak, pulling her back. It wasn’t enough to stop her, but her fall slowed. She could feel Link behind her, almost in slow motion, push himself off the ledge, using his momentum to pull harder as he lost balance. 

But it was enough to throw her back onto the platform.

“Link!” she gasped, crawling to the edge of the waterfall. Below, she saw him in the water, clearly moving, but slowly. She breathed a sigh of relief; had he fallen in the wrong way, he would’ve died for sure. But he wasn’t in the clear yet, as Hylians weren’t adapted to the water.

With adrenaline relieving her of the pain in her arms and legs, Mipha slowly rode down the waterfall, careful not to fall again. She dove the last few feet, surfacing quickly to pull him onto the ancient pedestal.

He coughed roughly, though no water came out -- good, he wouldn’t drown. Looking again, she immediately saw the problem: his shoulder was angled awkwardly, dislocated. Thankfully, nothing else seemed wrong, and she knew how to handle this.

“I need to relocate your shoulder, but it’ll hurt,” she said to him, an unspoken question in her voice. He looked up at her with those sky blue eyes and nodded, wincing at the movement. “Alright, on my count. One, two,...”

She pushed with all her might, just as she had learned with the Zora warriors. Link, for his part, only hissed through his teeth as his shoulder popped back into place with a harsh crack. He moved it slowly, then nodded at her, indicating that he was alright.

Mipha laughed breathily, though there was no joy in it. With the adrenaline fading, the pain she felt before crept back through her body, and she sat down with a small thud. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Link looking at her, still concerned.

For the first time since he arrived, Mipha really looked at Link again. He was visibly older than the last time she saw him, looking almost her age physically. No longer did she tower over him, but they were well matched in height, and it made her heart race. She knew, of course, that Hylians grew faster than the Zora, but seeing it in front of her, she couldn’t help but feel startled. 

He was beautiful.

“That was so reckless of you!” she reprimanded, trying to hide her embarrassment. “You’re lucky you only dislocated a shoulder, you could have died!”

Link continued to look at her, though now his eyes held a touch of scolding of his own; he knew as well as she did what would’ve happened if she fell.

She huffed, looking away, if only to stop noticing his sudden pulchritude. A minute passed with only the constant crashing of the falls intertwined with their own labored breathing filling the air. 

“Thank you,” Link whispered. “For helping me.”

Mipha looked back at him, shocked to see his sheepish smile. He rarely ever spoke, especially when he didn’t need to, and yet _he_ thanked _her_ , as if she had just saved his life rather than the other way around. From his expression, he had no expectation of thanks or apology from her.

For a moment, she marveled at the boy in front of her. He risked his life to save her without expecting so much as a thank you, and afterward he smiled and thanked her for her help to fix what she had broken. How many others had he helped like this, never expecting anything in return? Why hadn’t she noticed?

She knew he could barely hold a spear, but looking at Link now, she saw not a boy, but a Knight.

“Of course,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. As he turned away, she thought about his injury, and how it must have hurt, that he hissed in pain from it even with his quiet disposition. 

_I’ll heal him in the future,_ she thought to herself as he slowly pushed himself onto his feet again. _I’ll learn, and we can bear the burden together._

For the first time in months, her heart didn’t feel so empty.


	2. Revali

Revali had no idea how the Knight had become so cocky in the face of Revali’s perfect battle techniques.

The day had started out beautifully, with Revali flawlessly giving his speech as intended. He’d even been able to pull off his Gale technique twice in succession, stunning that idiot with a sword. The look on his oddly-shaped Hylian face had been worth crouching on the rocks below the landing for hours to find the right moment to ascend.

The fool hadn’t accepted his challenge, of course, as his flight capabilities were… lacking, to say the least. That was, of course, just another reason why Revali was the real hero, in his opinion.

Now, however, the Knight was taunting him, eating the salmon that he’d caught for the village. Revali scoffed at how he just sat there, acting like he owned the place. 

“Please, everyone, settle down,” the elder, Auli, croaked from his tall chair at the head of the main table. The crowd of villagers quieted at his words, listening with bored expressions. “Let us feast in honor of our celebrated guests, Princess Zelda and her esteemed Knight!”

Revali grinned as cheers broke out and the eating began anew. He didn’t grin for the elder’s words, of course, but for the look of distaste that crossed the Princess’ expression at the mention of the “esteemed Knight.” The Knight was so esteemed, in fact, that he’d been relegated to a different table from Her Highness altogether.

Even with that obvious slight, however, the Knight continued to act like he was the greatest warrior of all time, in Revali’s own village too.

“The audacity,” Revali muttered to himself with a glare. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a fellow Rito shoot him a look before rolling her eyes, but he took no note of it.

Revali began to eat his own salmon -- delicious, of course, the Rito were the most skilled in the culinary arts -- but could not shake off the silent insults that the Knight kept throwing. Honestly, it was a travesty that none of his fellow Rito were even reacting to them. Some were even trying to talk to the man!

That was the last straw. How dare this insolent Hylian interact with _his_ people, when they would barely even talk to him, the most skilled archer in all the Rito! He knew that he had to put a stop to this arrogance once and for all.

Revali pushed himself up from his seat, ignoring the nervous glances being thrown at him. With a flourish, he walked around his seat at the edge of the longest table and strode towards the Hylian, who was smiling brightly at some village children who surrounded him. 

“Ahem,” Revali said loudly, not actually bothering to clear his throat. The offenders look up at him. “I’d like a word with my fellow Champion.” 

An awkward silence rang around the table for a few moments. He stood patiently, glaring at the Knight as the children’s mother finally decided to herd them away from the table. Eventually, they were alone (not counting the dozens of Rito eyes watching the scene).

“O Hylian Knight,” he began, embodying the chivalrous Rito warriors of the past, “you have intruded upon my village with arrogance and hubris unparalleled. Your talent in battle has been disproven, and yet you still claim to be here as one of the great warriors of Hyrule. Though your skills in the air are nonexistent, you insist upon taking a bed in our inn rather than the Hylian stables. Finally, and most importantly, you are a coward, refusing to accept my challenge and thus shaming yourself and your people. Now, you curr, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Absolute silence rang through the hall. The Knight stared at Revali, his eyes unreadable in their blankness. Very slowly and without breaking eye contact, he brought his fork, still burdened with salmon, to his mouth. Slowly, he opened his mouth, bit the fish, and chewed.

Revali spluttered at his insolence as giggles broke out from where many of the fledglings sat. He even heard a few adults laugh quietly behind their wings as others looked on in amazement. 

“How dare you -- why I -- well,” he stumbled over his well thought-out denouncement, “you dare insult me sir? As the greatest archer of the Rito and _the most skilled and respected Champion of Hyrule I_ \--” 

“Revali you brat!” a loud and highly familiar voice cried out. “Stop lying and don’t cause an international incident!”

“Mother,” he began frantically as he heard more laughter come from around the room, “I am simply defending the honor of the Rito--”

“We’ve got plenty of honor, child, no need for defending,” his mom said, rolling her eyes. “Please behave like an adult.”

“Excuse you!” Revali bristled. “I am fifteen summers old, I am too old by half to have my mother challenge me in public.”

“Then act like it,” she repeated. “Now sit down and _don’t insult the Knight appointed personally by the King of Hyrule_.”

He shut his beak as the implications of the words washed over him. To humiliate this Knight in public was tantamount to insulting the King’s judgment, which would not look good on the Rito. Head hung in shame, he stormed back to his seat at the end of the table, huffing as he glared at the Knight.

Revali did not eat or so much as mutter a word for the rest of the meal. Though he could not insult the Hylian in public, he could make sure he did not cause trouble either. Revali would be vigilant, and his village would be safe.

(And if there was no catharsis from watching Link sit alone, avoided as much as he was after their confrontation? If there was no satisfaction in seeing the lack of that smile for the rest of the evening? If he saw his own crushing loneliness in the figure of a Hylian?

No one needed to know. Not even Revali.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Revali. I know technically everyone in Rito Village is supposed to love him, but I couldn’t resist having everyone kind of be over his shit. I think usually everyone kinda loves him, but not as much as he thinks, and he’s been more of a dick than usual because of Link.


	3. Urbosa

The Knight -- Link, his name was -- watched Urbosa curiously as she dismissed the rest of her attendants and guards away from her training arena. Even with his veiled face, the Gerudo Champion could read every emotion from his eyes. 

_And the little bird thinks he’s hard to read, _she mused.__

__“You can change into more freeing clothes now,” she declared after a minute of pure silence. “These are my personal training grounds, and no one would dare disobey my dismissal. You won’t be recognized here.”_ _

__Link examined her skeptically for a second. Just as she opened her mouth to challenge his doubt, however, he nodded slightly, unclipping the veil and gingerly taking off the circlet to reveal his face. From seemingly out of nowhere, he pulled his Champion’s Tunic and Hylian Trousers, before ducking behind a pillar to change into his unconventional uniform._ _

__When he emerged behind the pillar in his normal outfit, he looked no more confident than he had in vai clothing. _Good, not too much voe pride,_ she assessed. _Or at least, he has no shame from looking like a vai.__ _

__“I’d like to spar,” she announced, challenge in her voice. “I’ve heard of your skill, and I’d like to test it with my own blade.”_ _

__He nodded once, looking at her head-on with a glint in his eyes. As he approached her, however, he frowned slightly, his eyes flitting to the Master Sword and then around the arena._ _

__“Use your sacred sword,” Urbosa invited, “and I will use mine. I prefer to fight at our highest levels, even in a friendly spar.”_ _

__His eyes widened at her reference to her own sword, and she held back a laugh. His excitement at a new weapon was palpable, and lacked any trace of condescension at the prospect of a Gerudo weapon with the same prestige as the legendary Master Sword._ _

__With perhaps a little more flourish than necessary, she pulled her blade from its sheath, showing it to the fascinated Hylian._ _

__“This is the Scimitar of the Seven,” she explained as Link listened with rapt attention. “It was first wielded by the First of the Holy Seven, She Who Is Skilled. Her real name has been lost with time, but the stories of her skills and power with a blade have lived through the generations. She was the first to kill a Molduga, teaching the Gerudo people how we may defend our lands from beasts.”_ _

__A glance at the blond boy assured Urbosa that he was properly impressed. He seemed torn between properly investigating the blade and looking at her for more stories. Eventually, his swordsman nature won out as he openly marveled at the blade itself._ _

__After a moment of weighing the consequences, she offered him the handle of the blade. He stopped, looking up with her with hopeful eyes. She smiled gently, nodding in affirmation._ _

__Gently, Link accepted the scimitar. He ran a finger down the flat of the blade, awed by the superior, even modern, craftsmanship of the blade._ _

__Urbosa saw the exact moment he realized the blade was not ancient. His head whipped towards her, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. She couldn’t help it: she laughed._ _

__“Yes, the blade itself is new,” she admitted, shaking off the last vestiges of laughter. “I understand Hylians keep their ancient blades exactly the same. I can tell your Master Sword is unfathomably old, despite its perfect state. We Gerudo, on the other hand, do things a little differently._ _

__“When a weapon makes a name for itself, we seek to preserve its spirit, even when we cannot maintain its physical form. Each vai who wields the weapon may need a different weight or specifications, after all, for a perfect weapon is tailored to its wielder. Thus, when the Scimitar of the Seven was passed to me, we melted it down and captured its spirit in the new blade. The metal may be different, but what counts is still inside.”_ _

__Links nodded at this information, seemingly taking it in with acceptance. Even knowing that it was not the original blade, he handled the scimitar with respect. Urbosa had seen Hylians scoff at the notion before, calling it a fake, but this one understood the value of the spirit of a blade._ _

__Urbosa liked him, she decided._ _

__“I think it is best to observe a blade in action though, don’t you?” she teased, snapping him out of his trance. He handed the blade back with a small bow, which he accepted before he moved to where his sword and shield were._ _

__She could see immediately how his posture changed with the broadsword in his hands. He had held himself with some confidence before, but now the underlying power and skill made itself apparent in his stance and eyes._ _

__“We will fight until one of us surrenders, or either of us is genuinely hurt,” she stated. “We will both try to avoid any serious injuries. There is no shame in surrender. Are we agreed?”_ _

__Link pondered the terms for a moment, then nodded. Gone was the childlike excitement of the boy from before; a Knight stood in his place, serious and strong._ _

__“Good,” she said, “then we begin.”_ _

__She didn’t hesitate to strike first, moving like a viper with a rapid strike. Link parried immediately, shockingly fast despite his larger and less aerodynamic sword. He countered, shifting his weight forward in a clear strike. She slid her blade along his, using his momentum to stumble him as she whirled around him._ _

__Or rather, she thought it would stumble him. Instead, uses the force to pivot on his left foot, bringing his sword in a fast and deadly arc towards her neck. Only her years of training and experience let her raise her shield fast enough to block the blow, but the force of it startled her._ _

__Her sword style revolves around speed, perfect parries, and circular motions to increase her strength; she was not used to blocking blows at full force, even with Daybreaker._ _

__Still, she was the most skilled of the Gerudo for a reason, and no voe was to defeat her that easily._ _

__She spun out of range for his next attack, hoping to evaluate him. Circling each other, they studied each other like the hunters they both were deep inside. _No, this one is not a hunter,_ she corrected herself as she watched his footing, _he is a warrior_._ _

__His movements were practiced, perfected over lifetimes of past lives, even if he didn’t remember them. There was none of the wildness or chaos of a hunter, just the stone cold steps of one who did not like to kill, but would._ _

__Urbosa grinned._ _

__They lunged at the same moment this time, their swords only touching for an instant at a time as they traded blows, scanning for weaknesses. Each clash rumbled like thunder through her bones, staggering her even as she redirected the force with her scimitar. The dry desert air filled her lungs, offering no relief on her body even as it soothed her soul. She felt the breaths of her sisters in that air; she would not fail._ _

__Unfortunately for her sisters, Link found the first opening. Truthfully, Urbosa had not even noticed it herself, but she saw the moment he zeroed in on it, his upward strike unforgiving as it tore the scimitar from her grip, sending it flying across the arena._ _

__Urbosa barely had time to be surprised before he was on her, his strikes so fast she barely had time to lift Daybreaker. Still, she had gotten out of tighter spots than this._ _

__She waited for the right moment before swinging her shield up in the instant he brought his sword back for a strike. He reacted too quickly for Daybreaker to bludgeon his nose, but their shields clanged unpleasantly as her concealed strength pushed his several feet back; she may focus on speed over raw strength, but her power as a Gerudo Warrior was still above that of any Hylian._ _

__Link, to his credit, caught his footing quickly, barely phased by the unexpected blow. Instead of rushing to attack again, though, he watched carefully; they both knew she was deadly, even with just a shield._ _

__Keeping her eyes mostly on her opponent, Urbosa let her eyes quickly flit towards her scimitar. It lay on the ground at the edge of the arena, about the same distance from both of them. However, she was still at a disadvantage: a shield wasn’t enough to effectively attack a swordsman of Link’s skill, so he knew she had to go for the sword, meaning he knew her next move._ _

__Or so he thought._ _

___Perhaps it’s time to bring out my last weapon,_ she mused. She raised her hand dramatically, savoring his wariness and confusion at the gesture. _ _

__Then, she snapped._ _

__The lightning she invoked this time was not particularly powerful -- she didn’t want to seriously injure him, after all -- but it did the trick. With his incredible reflexes, he jumped to the side just before the strike, but the move threw him off balance. He recovered quickly, immediately moving towards her fallen sword to intercept her._ _

__But she wasn’t going for the sword. With him still off balance from the unexpected dodge, she took him by surprise by ramming into his side with full force, knocking him over. He rolled into the movement, the momentum pulling him back onto his feet, but that was enough: she dashed to her sword, gracefully picking it up._ _

__She grinned as his eyes widened, knowing that the playing field had changed. She snapped again, this time holding her sword and shield together as the lightning struck. With a downward swing of her sword, the weapons lit up, crackling with lightning._ _

__This time, when Urbosa initiated again, Link did not rise to meet her as he did before, but stepped back, rearing his element-proofed shield to handle the electrified blows._ _

__He managed for a while, dodging and blocking and sometimes even taking a precise swing, but he was no match. She was simply too fast, and he could not parry with his sword without being electrocuted._ _

__Not even he could not delay the inevitable, however. An opening soon appeared, and she struck without hesitation, pulling his shield from his grip. With nothing to block her magic, he was defenseless, and he knew it. He immediately drew his fingers together in a silent sign of surrender._ _

__Urbosa smiled proudly at him, letting the magic dissipate as she sheathed her weapons. They each took a moment to catch their breaths as Link retrieved his sword._ _

__“You did well,” she commended after a minute of comfortable quiet. “You are indeed a skilled swordsman, perhaps even better than me. However, you were not prepared for my magic, which disadvantaged you.”_ _

__He nodded, seemingly taking the advice to heart, but she could see the smile underneath his stony facade._ _

__“I’ll let you know if I can find the Princess, but she’s likely out gathering data about shrines in the middle of the desert. I know,” she said, raising her hands at his darkening expression, “I agree that it’s dangerous out there, but there’s no stopping her once she gets going.”_ _

__Link sighed at that, indicating that he was well aware of what she was like when she got worked up about her research, her independence, or both._ _

__“In the meantime,” she continued, “feel free to look around Gerudo Town, as long as you keep that outfit on.”_ _

__He gave her a confused look, one that she was quickly able to decipher: _How is that supposed to fool anyone?__ _

__“The clothes aren’t to disguise you as a vai so much as to give you deniability,” she explained. “The sacred law is more for tradition, and any voe who has too much ‘pride’ to dress as a vai doesn’t deserve to be in Gerudo town. Besides, it’s not like you can judge a person’s gender based on their looks.”_ _

__Link nodded at that, and Urbosa was glad she didn’t have to kill him for being a jerk._ _

__He and her little bird really would get along so well, once they got over themselves._ _


	4. Daruk

Daruk had been friends with the little Hylian for a while now, but he still gets surprised by the guy sometimes. He’d thought he’d seen it all from him when the Knight pushed him into Rudania, forcing him to get to know his Beast better, but this was another level of insane altogether. 

The little brown puppy licked Link’s hand, and Daruk could barely stop himself from activating his Protection at the horrific sight.

Logically, he knew that most dogs were perfectly friendly, that they were loyal and made wonderful pets for Hylians. Additionally, this dog was so tiny that it wouldn’t be able to hurt him if it wanted to, and it probably didn’t.

That didn’t stop him from trembling at the sight of the tiny thing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try again?” Link asked patiently. His head was tilted slightly, concerned, but not condescending.

“Just uh, give me a minute to breathe,” Daruk answered a bit nervously. “Maybe it’ll forget I’m here.”

The Knight smiled kindly before looking down at the dog, petting its long head.

Link’s patience did help a little, interestingly enough. Daruk had known a lot of Hylians in his life, and they had such strange ideas. They had these concepts about fear; they thought less of those who had fear, especially those they considered strong. Heck, even the wise Princess had laughed at him -- albeit kindly -- when she’d discovered his fear of dogs.

Link was different though: when he’d found out about his “weakness” a few days ago upon arriving at the Akkala stable, he hadn’t laughed at him, or tried to fix him, or berated him for “not being enough of a man,” whatever that meant. Instead, he’d simply nodded and accepted it, before leading the offending mutt away with a branch.

The Knight had eventually offered to help though, postulating that one of the two-month-old puppies might be easier to get used to than a fully-grown beast. His tone had been so non-judgmental that Daruk had agreed easily.

Now, with a dog in front of him, he kind of regretted his choice.

“Maybe it would help to just watch for a bit?” the Hylian proposed, apparently reading into his again growing nervousness. 

“Maybe,” he acquiesced, not feeling too enthusiastic about the idea. 

The Hylian hummed. He clearly didn’t buy it. Then, he perked up.

“Let’s run some sword drills,” Link said, pushing himself up on his feet.

“Uh, how is that supposed to help? I’m not exactly good at swords, remember?” Daruk questioned, confusion rising in his head. 

“Exactly,” the Knight nodded, as if that explained anything. He ran to the tent, disappearing with the dog for a moment before returning with a broadwork and a greatsword. He gently put the puppy down, then walked to Daruk to give him the greatsword.

Due to their size differences, the Hylian greatsword fit easily in one of Daruk’s hands, letting him swing it as the other would a one-handed broadsword. They’d discovered that Link could teach him Hylian swordplay that way, even if Daruk still preferred his club for real battle. 

Sword in hand, Daruk shifted his weight into the position the Hylian taught him, ready to spar. He stopped, however, when the Knight held up a finger in a clear gesture to wait. Without a word, he scooped the dog up again, grabbed a cloth, and quickly tied a makeshift sling around his chest.

Daruk starred in amazement and fear at the tiny dog now comfortably nestled against Link’s chest. The dog blinked back at him with its dark eyes.

“Uh, are you sure about this little guy?” Daruk asked skeptically.

“She’s a calm pup, she won’t jump out,” Link answered confidently.

“What if I hurt her?” Daruk continued, a little panicked. “I’m not great with a sword after all, one wrong cut could --”

A fast sword strike interrupted the thought and Daruk barely reacted in time to block.

“You won’t.” Link’s small smile was kind, despite the frankly terrible decision he was making.

The fight was on before he could protest any more. Steel hit steel as they moved, Link fast and clever and Daruk centered and powerful. 

Despite his advantage in size and strength, Daruk felt himself fall on the defensive; he was unused to swords, and the Hylian’s sword blows were not to be discounted, even by Gorons. Moreover, he felt himself wary of the dog, while also wary not to hurt it with a wrong move.

Link continued unrelentingly, striking like a Lizalfos at any hint of weakness, driving Daruk back. Mildly panicked, Daruk continued to block, frantically doing his best to keep a “proper” Hylian sword stance that wasn’t designed for Goron proportions. He knew that he could ask Link to stop, and the Hylian instantly would with no questions or judgement, but he didn’t.

Then, Link swung left, directly to his side, and Daruk felt clarity roll through him. 

He activated Protection, startling the Hylian, and counterattacked. His blood raced as he swung the sword fiercely. He could feel his ancestors call his name in triumph as his sword began to feel natural, even with its unfamiliarity. A grin spread across his face as power returned to his body.

He had fought since birth to protect his land, knowing where and how to hit to stop without killing. No enemy stood against him, but no innocent creature would fall to his might. He was Goron. He was Death Mountain. He was Daruk!

With that thought in his head, he swung upward, avoiding the dog while catching Link’s sword on his, flinging it from the smaller man’s hand and into the grass behind him.

For a moment, they both stood there grinning with heavy breaths. The dog panted eagerly, like she’d just played a fun game rather than a potentially deadly one. With two warriors as skilled as them, Daruk supposed she had.

Then, he realized he was standing right next to a dog, even if it was a tiny one. He squeaked, jumping back a bit at the revelation. 

“No luck?” Link asked sadly, his eyes wide with concern. Oddly, the dog did the same.

Looking at them again, Daruk stopped, his fear almost disappearing. Link and the puppy held the exact same expression of worry. The big eyes, the kind expression, even the hair all looked the same.

Slowly, Daruk started to laugh. Not a panicked laugh, or even an awkward one, but a full laugh of amusement. Both Link and the dog cocked their heads to the side, visibly confused, but it made them look all the more similar. He laughed harder, almost falling over as he dropped the greatsword to hold his belly.

The Hylian and the dog’s further confusion and concern only made the matter funnier in Daruk’s opinion.

* * *

A few days later, all of the monsters in the area had been wiped out thanks to their superior teamwork. The Princess had successfully addressed the needs of the residents (apparently, Daruk hadn’t even noticed until after it all), and it was time to move on. 

Link was throwing some sort of tiny ball for a (grown) dog, who was excitedly chasing after it then bringing it back. Even standing far away, the scene was uncomfortable for Daruk, but not as scary as it would have been a week ago. 

Maybe he’d never get over his fear of dogs, but that was alright with him. Now, when he saw a dog, he could see his friend in the mutt’s face and the panic calmed a bit. With time, maybe he’d even pet one.

“Thank you, for helping him,” the voice of the innkeeper startled the Goron Champion. He turned to see the middle aged woman smiling kindly at him.

“Uh, of course, always happy to help,” Daruk agreed, having no idea what she was referring to.

“I’ve known Link since he was a boy traveling with his father,” the woman continued, unbothered. “He was always so shy, and he never talked. He still doesn’t, but it’s nice to see him come out of his shell a little bit. We all appreciate your help with that around here.”

She walked away without another word, leaving Daruk confused as he looked back at his friend.

_Well that was weird,_ he thought to himself. _Link’s been the one helping me. She must not be paying very close attention. He’s perfectly talkative!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason why Link talks around Daruk in my headcanon is that he feels relaxed and not judged, so much so that he doesn’t have difficulty talking. I like the idea of them being bros in a super supportive and non-toxically masculine way.


	5. Zelda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place immediately after Memory 11, in the rain.
> 
> Just one chapter left! It should be up in the next few days.

“...if that was the only thing you were ever told, would you have chosen a different path?”

Zelda’s question lingered in the air, dampened only by the sound of rain around them. She watched Link closely from her seat next to the Korok shrine as he lowered his sword, abandoning his drills. 

She waited with shortened breaths for a response, some affirmation of her implied confession, something to indicate that he understood. The silence of the storm remained, however, as it usually did with Link when she didn’t speak. His back was to her, so she looked at the damp ground instead.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him move towards Epona, silently gathering wood and a cooking pot from the bags on her saddle. The silence continued, as he lit the fire under the protection of the curved rock, before walking back to his horse to find the other ingredients for whatever their dinner would be.

“I wanted to be a cook, growing up.” His words were quiet, his voice rough from lack of use. For a moment, she almost thought she imagined it. Neither said anything as the tension lingered. When she looked up, he was focused solely on the stone bowl and the fire in front of him.

“My mom taught me how to cook,” he continued, only a little louder. “I would mess up all the time, but she’d just laugh and show me my mistakes. Even after she died, I kept cooking, kept trying to learn to be good at it.”

Zelda almost wanted to say something, to apologize for her death, to acknowledge him, but the moment was too fragile. She wanted to listen, and was afraid that he might stop if she interrupted. So the silence persisted as he struggled to search for words, unused to using them.

“I loved the way people would react to good food, to _my_ food,” he said after a minute. “I loved experimenting and making new recipes from the new ingredients I’d get while traveling. Dad would always get me the specialty dishes from wherever we went, and I’d try to replicate them. I got good at it too, and I loved sharing those recipes with others in Hyrule. It made people happy.

“But then, when I was 12, we were in Deya Village when it was attacked by Bokoblins. Dad had me hide with the villagers who couldn’t fight in the Temple, but some Bokoblins got in anyway. Five of them died before soldiers showed up, and there was nothing I could do. I just felt so… useless. 

“I realized it didn’t matter how happy my food could make people if they all died in monster attacks. I knew that even if I wanted to cook, I needed to fight, to defend. And so, I learned.”

Zelda was practically shaking at this point. She’d never heard Link talk this much, and certainly not about himself, but she could sense he wasn’t done. 

_Has all of this just been bubbling inside of him for years?_ she wondered, but didn’t dare speak. _He told me once that he hated talking for fear of saying the wrong thing. Has he ever talked about this to anyone?_

“The worst thing about learning fighting,” Link began again, his voice wavering but unbreaking, “was how easy it was. Learning how to cook was difficult. I had to toil at first to make even simple dishes. But fighting? It felt like I’d been swinging a sword for lifetimes.” 

He huffed, irritation cracking through his normally impassive face. 

“By the time I turned 14, Dad had to join the Royal Guard officially rather than travel just to have me learn from others. He said that after two years, I’d already surpassed him, one of the best swordsmen in Hyrule. Within a few months at the Castle, I had beaten nearly everyone with a sword at least once, even those who had spent decades honing their skills.”

Zelda remembered. It had been all of the gossip in the Castle at the time, along with the King’s growing disappointment in her. She’d held it against him, bitter that he was so skilled and perfect, in the eyes of the court.

“But, even when I could beat every knight in the castle easily, I never felt the joy I did when I cooked for people,” he whispered, a confession like hers. “Even now, I get no enjoyment from fighting. I’m proud to serve, and I know my duty, but in truth I’d--”

He caught himself before he could finish. They both knew it was treasonous to speak those kinds of thoughts, especially for a Knight to say in front of his Princess.

Zelda could see him breathing heavily now, his words catching up to him. She desperately wanted him to keep going, to keep telling her whatever weighed on his mind, but she could see his walls closing again. She could see him visibly swallow, and she knew his voice wouldn’t cooperate for the rest of the night.

“I’ve always loved your cooking,” she finally said. Her words felt weak, almost petty in the shadows of his confession. “Even when I thought I hated you, your cooking on the road brought me joy.” It was true too, even if she’d forgotten any specific examples. 

Link looked up at her though, and smiled. It was small and sad and looked like it would break with a breath, but it was real. Slowly, he began to pull more ingredients out of the bag and threw them in the pot. The rain continued to pour around them as the sounds of vegetables sizzling joined in.

They exchanged no more words that night, but they had no need to.


	6. Link

Walking back towards the Shuteye Inn from Impa’s house, Link felt the weight of the blue fabric in his arms. Logically, he knew that the Champion’s Tunic was mostly just simple fabrics and worn leather, but holding it made him feel tired. 

“Mr. Link! I made a new dish, do you wanna try it?” The bright, optimistic voice of Koko from the nearby cooking pot brought Link out of his thoughts, drawing his attention to the young girl. He nodded, taking the offered plate of food. 

“I made it with some pumpkins and wheat and milk and butter,” she explained as he sampled the stew. He hummed in appreciation, not paying attention to her expectant gaze fixed on him.

“Could use a bit of salt, I think your sister keeps some on hand,” he eventually replied quietly, “but it’s delicious. Thank you, Koko.”

“Thank you, Mr. Link!” she nodded excitedly. “I’m getting much better for Father, just like Mother was!” 

A flash of familiarity coursed through Link at the statement, like the feeling he got next to Lake Kolomo before his first memory came back. Somehow, he knew that he’d said nearly that exact phrase before. The tunic in his arms felt heavy again. 

From the corner of his eye, Link saw something he knew was usually not there, again pulling him from his thoughts: a blue colored candle, already halfway melted. Giving off a pale smoke, it looked like nothing he’d ever seen before.

“It’s for Mother,” Koko explained sadly, following his gaze. At his confused look, she continued, “I’m burning it for her. Father said that when the candle’s done burning we can move on. He told me not to tell Cottla, but I think she already knows.”

For a moment, they stood in a contemplative silence, Koko with her eyes closed in remembrance and Link marveling at the girl’s young maturity. 

“Can you help me make one?” he asked after a moment. She smiled gently at him, and they began.

* * *

That night, Link stood in his room in the Shuteye Inn, looking in the mirror as his bare chest. Scars lined his body, but for the first time since waking up, he knew that they were not his. 

Until now, he hadn’t had the time to stop and consider himself, too busy seeking answers from Impa, then Purah, then back to Impa again, searching for memories of a time long past. Now, though, after his first recollection and only the daunting task of taming four giant machines in front of him did he truly stop to consider who he was.

Where did these scars come from? Were some of them from childhood, or did they all come from the injuries that sent him to the Shrine of Resurrection a hundred years ago?

These were the marks of a life that he didn’t know, one that felt scarcely his.

Link knew he could technically ask Impa, but he didn’t know the old woman, and he didn’t want to remind her of painful memories. Besides, who was to say that she knew? She hadn’t known him too well, based on her vague accounts of things, and her only mild sadness at his amnesia. 

He pulled on the Champion's Tunic, covering the unfamiliar scars. His hands quickly adjusted the armguard and the leather straps that would hold his weapons, though he never recalled doing it before. His body remembered the motions even though his mind did not.

The blue fabric felt familiar, its surprisingly sturdy protection immediately granting him a sense of security that had eluded him since waking up. The geometric white lines reminded him of a sense of duty that had long left him. The well-worn armguard fit perfectly to his forearm, while the pressure of the gloves soothed his calloused hands.

The Tunic felt like home, but at the same time… it had been a different home, before. Someone else’s home. 

Looking away from the mirror, he quickly took stock of the things he had collected. His weapons were crude things he had taken from ruins and monsters. He had been desperate to scavenge them, terrified that he would find himself in a fight with no functional weapons, that he would fall to the lowest of monsters. Even on his way to Hateno, he had resorted to underhanded tactics and hiding in order to stay alive.

He knew from the dead King’s tale and his single memory that he had wielded the sacred sword that sealed the darkness. He had felt it on his back, and knew that it would fit in his hand with a familiar heft. It was the only weapon that knight had carried with him, his confidence and skills would otherwise speak for him.

In the past, the knight had relied on his sword to be an honorable opponent, to face any danger to his princess. Now, however, Link knew he wasn’t a swordsman, but a survivor. He’d wield any weapon, any trick, any cowardly strategy to stay alive.

And that’s what Link realized, looking back at the remaining exposed scars on his body: the person who died protecting the princess, the Knight, wasn’t him. He was a stranger who gave his life, and now Link, the current one, was here to take his mantle, to try to accomplish what his past life couldn’t. 

Honestly, Link didn’t think he could do it. But he had to try.

This realization, however, led to another: the old Link, the Knight, was dead. With the exception of a few old Sheikah and a trapped princess, he was gone from living memory. Including Link’s.

Slowly, as if afraid to offend some lingering spirit, Link pulled the blue candle from his bag. He had no flint left, so he took one of his fire arrows and gently touched the tip to the candle, lighting it. The feeble flame flickered in the cool air of the room, desperate to stay alive, but Link knew that it would endure.

Leaving the candle burning beside the window, Link blew out the rest of the lights and went to bed.

* * *

The sun rose over the mountain, illuminating even the shaded window of the inn. The ray roused Link gently from his sleep, but he woke quickly, as he always did. Picking up the Sheikah Slate, he inspected the nearly empty map, and the four yellow dots pulsing in uncharted areas. 

He had a lot of work to do.

Without fanfare, Link pushed himself up out of bed. He did not look in the mirror at his scars as he got up. He pulled on the tunic, its weight no longer as heavy on his shoulders. He gathered his weapons, knowing without shame that they would defend him.

He glanced at the windowsill, and saw the blue wax of the candle fully melted.

After one last deep breath, he left a tip on the table for the inn staff, and left without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually the first one I wrote, but it was really satisfying. I am sad that I couldn’t include Kass though, so maybe I’ll do a similar thing with a Kass POV in the future.  
> This was actually very fun to write, as I feel like all the characters have very different personalities, so getting in their heads was an interesting exercise.


End file.
